Sunlight crept through the curtains of Michael's penthouse, painting soft golden lines across the room. The scent of rain lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of coffee brewing somewhere nearby.
Hazel stirred beneath the silk sheets, her body aching in that pleasantly exhausted way only a night like theirs could leave behind. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the light — and found herself alone in bed.
"Coward," she muttered with a lazy smile, stretching out across the luxurious mattress.
Memories of the night before surged through her like wildfire.
The dance in the warehouse.
The slow, lingering kiss.
The whispered confessions in the rain.
And the way Michael had finally, finally stopped holding back when they returned home.
The teasing. The arguments. The lingering tension between them — it had all exploded into something raw and desperate and beautiful.
Hazel's face heated at the memory.
She sat up, tugging the sheet around her, just as the door opened.
Michael Graze stood there, impossibly perfect even in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"I was wondering when you'd wake up, Mrs. Graze."
Hazel arched a brow, smirking. "I was recovering from last night, Mr. Graze. Not all of us can keep up with your stamina."
Michael chuckled, setting the coffee on the bedside table and leaning down, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that promised trouble.
"You kept up just fine."
Hazel grinned, tugging him down by the shirt collar. "I could probably use a reminder."
But before he could claim her lips again, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
Connor's voice came through, deadpan. "Before you two start something that'll scar me for life — you're gonna want to see this."
Michael groaned, straightening. "Can't even have one morning without chaos."
Hazel sighed, grabbing his discarded shirt and pulling it over her head. "I guess being married to you means excitement's non-negotiable."
He flashed her a grin. "Would you really have it any other way?"
Hazel pretended to think. "Honestly? Boring sounds pretty tempting sometimes."
Michael moved closer, his voice low. "Liar."
Hazel bit her lip, laughing.
"Yeah, fine. I like the crazy."
They left the bedroom together, stepping into the living room where Connor was already pulling up security footage on the massive screen.
Michael's brows furrowed. "What is it?"
Connor gestured to the screen. "Caught this on the external cameras an hour ago."
The footage played. A tall figure in a hooded coat approached the building in the predawn gloom, pausing to slip a note beneath the front entrance before vanishing into the shadows.
Connor tossed the note onto the coffee table. "Found this addressed to you both."
Hazel exchanged a glance with Michael before picking it up.
The message was short.
Scrawled in jagged, ink-stained handwriting.
"You think it's over?
The real storm's just begun.
–A Friend"
Hazel felt the hairs on her neck rise.
Michael's jaw tensed, his hand brushing Hazel's protectively.
Connor sighed. "I knew it. City's never clean for long."
Michael met Hazel's gaze, a flicker of something dark and thrilling in his eyes. "Looks like we're not done."
Hazel smirked, her pulse racing. "Good. I was starting to get bored."
Michael leaned down, kissing her one more time.
"Then let's give them a reason to be afraid."
And in that instant, Hazel realized — this wasn't just a marriage born from hate and tangled feelings anymore.
They were a team.
Dangerous. Reckless. Unstoppable.
And together, whatever storm was coming next… would be theirs to conquer....